


Comradery

by mythlover20, Subaruchan192



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Companions, Developing Friendships, Drinking to Cope, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25206700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythlover20/pseuds/mythlover20, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subaruchan192/pseuds/Subaruchan192
Summary: After meeting his father, Dorian has to process some things over a jug of ale and is comforted by the person he has expected least.
Relationships: Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Comradery

**Author's Note:**

> Well, it's been a while, since I last wrote something in the Dragon Age fandom, but I still love it. Especially Dorian and Blackwall, so I wanted to write a little story about their friendship.
> 
> I have to thank my lovely “[mythlover20](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythlover20/pseuds/mythlover20)” , who helped my quite a lot writing this ^-^

Dorian was a mage, who knew exactly who he was and what he wanted. He loved men and he hated the dust, which was now weaved into his robe due to the long travel through the Hinterlands. He was a person, who talked a lot to hide, what was truly going on inside of him and he wore a mask, which was adequate to his fancy upbringing. He was perfect and yet he was _not_. At least for his father. The man he had always wanted to please, but who couldn’t love him. Whenever he had looked at Dorian all he saw was that one mistake, which made Dorian imperfect in his eyes. All he saw was the pain of _he would be perfect, if he didn’t love men_.

Whenever Dorian looked at Halward all he saw was the pain of not being good enough and he could never be. No matter how hard he tried. It had made him feel like a failure and no matter how hard he tried to be perfect in everything else, these feelings never disappeared. It was a poison, which corroded him from the inside and all he wanted to do was to scream.

At one point, he hadn’t been able to keep up the charade anymore and left, before his father would risk to either make him perfect or a complete failure. Dorian had never felt more lost in his life. Until now.

He had never expected to see his father again, but he should have known better. His father had invested a lot in him to simply let him go. At least that was, what he had thought, when the Inquisitor had given him the letter. The trap. That was how he had called it and yet, it hadn’t been one. Or had it? Dorian wasn’t sure. He was so utterly confused, almost as if he was back in his teenage years and had discovered his sexual orientation. It felt like everything around and inside of him was shaking. His heart was pounding inside his ears and he felt dizzy.

On the entire, long ride back from the Hinterlands, he had barely spoken at all, which had concerned all of his companions, his new _friends_ , his first friends and most and for all the Inquisitor. The mighty Herald of Andraste with those kind eyes, which never looked painful, when they looked at Dorian. Eyes, which never spoke of stereotypes. Eyes, who saw Dorian. All of him and it was so incredibly hard to handle.

But it had felt good to talk to him. To open his heart and let out all the pinned-up pain and frustration. The Inquisitor had listened, had cared and had encouraged him to talk to his father, to say those words he needed to instead of swallowing them like he always had and regret to stay silent once again. It would have turned them in even more acid of scorn pain and regret. The Herald had saved him from all of this with his gentle words and for the first time, Dorian felt more arrived and at home than ever in his life. Yet, he also felt completely lost.

Just when he had had passed on their mounts to Dennet and changed into his casual robe, the Inquisitor had come looking for him, asking concerned, if he was alright. What had he been supposed to answer to that? Dorian hadn’t known. He hadn’t known a charming way to dismiss his concerns and for the first time, he hadn’t wanted to. Dorian had wanted to be honest and to open up. To a person he barely knew, but felt close to and somehow, he felt like the Inquisitor would never let him down. He was a kind and warm-hearted person. But speaking about everything, which he had hidden and buried for such a long- even from himself- hadn’t been easy. Dorian had never learned how to be honest and had never actually felt the urge to. Now, that he had wanted to, he hadn’t known how to. He hadn’t known, what he had expected, but he had been surprised by how much pain he had actually buried. At the same time, it had felt relieving to be just Dorian and no one else. To accept the pain as a part of him, but it had always been overwhelming.

That was why he had ended the conversation to get drunk, because he felt like he wasn’t able to withstand the storm. It was a cool evening just like always on top of the Frostback Mountains as he scuffed over the trampled, barren grass, which fought stubbornly to survive. Cassandra, who mauled a dummy, turned her head towards him, confusion resting in the knit of her eyebrows, but Dorian didn’t care. Couldn’t care. His thoughts were running wild and yet, it was completely silent inside of him.

Loud chatter and a joyful mood greeted him as he opened the door of the Herald’s rest, although it was relatively empty. Only a handful of soldiers sat around one table, jugs of ale resting in front of them, while they talked about their watch on the high, old walls of the Skyhold.

The reason for the noise inside the tavern was Bull and his mercenaries, who were discussing about something, Krem gesticulating wildly towards the impressive Qunari. For a moment, Dorian reconsidered getting drunk. He liked the Iron Bull, most of the times, but for tonight his bashful kind was too loud, too much, too hard to endure. He didn’t want to hear his jokes, he didn’t want to smile about them, but as soon as Bull would discover him, he would wave him over.

And so, it happened.

“Dorian!” He stopped his steps and took a deep breath, trying to put this radiant smile back on his face, which was his best amor, but he simply couldn’t find it in him. Slowly, he turned around, where Bull waved eagerly and Krem watched him with a smirk on his lips. Dorian sighed.

Just when Dorian thought of a way to get out of this uncomfortable situation without letting the others know what was going on inside of him, he heard how a jug was placed loudly onto the table. That caught Bull's attention and tore his gaze away from Dorian, who immediately felt relieved and took a deep breath. Saved.

“Hey, Bull, what do you think? Up for sparring?”, Blackwall's deep, calm voice asked and Dorian blinked surprised. He hadn't seen him, but according to the location of the sound, he was sitting behind the stair, likely with Sera.

“Oh?!” Bull tilted his head. “Now, you finally want to spar with me, Warden?! Up till know, you declined each of my request.”

“I know.” The frown of the Qunari deepened and Dorian suspected that Blackwall only looked thoughtfully at him. “But I'm still frustrated from our trip and need to get rid of it. So, do you want to or do you back down?”

Dorian heard Blackwall's smirk, which even his beard couldn't hide, and there was a challenge in the roll of his voice. A temptation Bull rarely could resist. Or any temptation at all, which was quite unusual for a Qunari.

A cocky, shit-eating grin slowly spread across Bull's face.

“Yeah, all right, Blackwall. Let's see if that Warden endurance of yours is actually worth a damn!” He looked around. “Chargers? What say you? Shall we knock this old man down a peg or two?”

The Charger's cheer was automatic and as loud as it was on the battlefield. Dorian's ears rang. They hadn't even done anything and already they were knocking tankards together. He rolled his eyes, and pinched his nose. Maker, they were so loud...

“UUUUH, a showdown!”, Dorian heard Sera exclaim excitedly and he could almost feel how she shifted on her chair in anticipation. “That’s going to be fun.”

But the timing of Blackwalls offer made Dorian thoughtful, while he heard the scatter of swords and shift of chairs as the group got ready. Why had Blackwall offered it just the moment, when Bull had spotted him and was about to call him over? Something about it felt off to him.

Could it be that Blackwall had done it for him? To save him from Bull's too loud energy? Dorian shook his head. That was absurd. Blackwall didn't even like him- not that Dorian liked him. So why would the Grey Warden put himself into a situation he didn't want just to help Dorian?

Dorian snorted to himself - an entirely undignified response but at this point he didn't care. The Chargers were filing past, with Bull taking up the lead out the door. They all seemed to have forgotten about him, and truthfully Dorian was grateful. Whether Blackwall did this to help him or not, Dorian was happy their attention was on something other than him.

He stood there until the Chargers and Blackwall were all gone, invisible - just how he wanted it. An invisible rock the seas parted around, leaving him behind. Only when they were gone did he turn and head to the bar.

Cabot, the dwarven barkeeper, was polishing a jug as always, though Dorian wasn’t sure if it made any differences. The brown eyes, hidden under bushy brows and a low eyebrow bridge, looked at him thoughtfully and Dorian wondered if he looked as miserable as he felt.

He sat down on the free stools in front of the bar and didn’t even have to lift a finger. Cabot immediately poured him an ale, which smelled horridly to Dorian’s nose and the gourmet inside of him hoped Josephine would be able to gather something more exquisite soon, but tonight he wanted to drink himself into stupor tonight and for that purpose, the dwarven brew was perfect.

The first taste of ale on his tongue was as bitter as he was. The second almost made him gag. The third burned. Still he kept drinking, swallow after swallow after swallow. And slowly the tankard emptied, and was refilled with more ale.

And just like that Dorian spend quite some time in desired loneliness, the brim of his jug never leaving his lips, some of the beverage getting caught in his moustache- that was how eagerly he was swallowing it down- and slowly, the burn began to spread up into his brain and his mind began to forget about the bitterness in his stomach.

When he had finished his second ale of oblivion, Blackwall sat down on the stool, two away from his. Dust covered his armour of silverit with the blue and white fabric the Inquisitor had crafted for him and a new, fresh scratch was carved into his right shoulder piece, where Bulls Bidenhänder had licked on him.

Dorian looked at him from the corners of his eyes, already putting words of dismissal onto his tongue, but Blackwall said nothing, didn't even look at him. Instead, he only ordered another ale and drank half of the jug with two big gulps. Then, he put it down, resting both of his gloved hands around it and starred silently at the wooden wall.

“If you want to ask what happened in Gull and Lantern, don't.”, Dorian said after a few moments in which he assessed what Blackwall wanted, angrier than he had intended to.

“I wasn't.”, Blackwall dismissed calmly. “I know you don't want to talk about.”

In this moment, Dorian realized surprised that Blackwall had indeed distracted Bull because of him. He scrapped his teeth over his bottom lip for a moment, fighting for the words, which felt so bitter on his tongue,

“Thank you for earlier.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” But Dorian saw the little twitch of a smile around the corners of his mouth, before he nipped contently on his ale and Dorian felt a light feeling of gratefulness, but a question sat inside his mind.

“Why have you done it? You don't even like me.”

“I don't and I guess it's mutual.” For the first time, Blackwall looked at him, a thoughtful, but compassionate gaze resting in his blue eyes. “But that doesn't mean you deserve to feel this pain or having to endure Bull tonight.”

Dorian snorted.

“What have we here? Is the Warden more perceptive than he let on?” Blackwall shrugged.

“I don't know. I'm just the idiot who voluntarily took on a qunari in melee combat."

“Then you're definitely an idiot.”, Dorian said and for the first time in the last few days he felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips.

“And I will regret it tomorrow.” Blackwall took another sip and Dorian huffed a little laugh. Silence settled between them for a while, but it wasn't as unpleasant as Dorian would have had expected.

“You don't have to tell me what’s troubling, Dorian.”, Blackwall said after a while and it sounded more as if he was talking to himself. He didn't even look at him. “I just thought you might appreciate some company without the necessity of talking.”

They sat together in silence for a few minutes before Dorian had the courage to speak again. Softly, mostly into his drink, he muttered: “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”, Blackwall said and there was an unexpected warmth in his voice. “You're my brother in arms and I respect you for that.”

Surprised, Dorian turned fully around to the old warrior. At first, he was not able to understand, what he meant, but the longer he thought about it, the more he realized that Blackwall had a point. Even though he wasn't exactly fond of him as a person, he knew he could absolutely rely on Blackwall in battle. He never wasted a second thought on that and it created a different kind of bond between them, a different kind of connection. Not friendship, but rather companionship forged out of shared rush of adrenaline. It was almost as if he was two different persons. Of Blackwall, the person, he wasn’t very fond, but he appreciated Blackwall the warrior, who gave all of him to protect all of his comrades, who rather took a blow then others get hurt and by the Maker being the tank in the Inquisitors preferred constellation was a back-breaking job.

“I know we don’t agree on most things.”, he whispered quietly, a certain heaviness in his voice. “But I respect you as my ally, too. I know I can always rely on you in battle.”

Blackwall smiled. It was kind and gentle, smoothing out the harsh lines from years of war and for a moment, Dorian believed to be able to see, what the Inquisitor saw in him.

“What you did…” For a moment, Blackwall’s voice trailed off as he tilted his head to reach the words, which hid in his mouth. “Leaving your country, standing up against your tutor and friend to do the right thing even though most won’t welcome you. It was very brave of you.”

“Oh, it was nothing.”, Dorian drawled. “My countrymen are just trying to destroy the entire world. Besides, it's not like I have anything back home.”

Blackwall frowned, though the expression in his eyes showed that he understood the feeling to an extent. He only wondered, why Dorian thought that way.

Dorian had turned back around again, a melancholic, sad gaze hanging on the wall.

“And I didn't want to scream on the inside for the rest of my life.” The words slipped him, before he even realized them, but to his own surprise, he didn't feel afraid or exposed. He just felt sad that he had to feel that way for such a long time.

Blackwall didn't respond to that, though, how could he? He was a Grey Warden: he had a family and a purpose, and people respected the Wardens, and him by extent. He wasn't belittled or ridiculed or feared by everyone he met.

Dorian sighed and downed the rest of his drink before signalling Cabot to pour him another one. Apparently, he felt a little bitter about it, too. Blackwall did the same and soon two refilled jugs sat in front of them. This time, Dorian only starred into the strange brown, which was sold as a drink here, hoping he could drown so much within it.

Blackwall didn’t stare at him like most members of the Inquisition did. Actually, he never had. Blackwall might not like him, but it had nothing to do with the fact that he was from Tevinter and it carried a certain solace. For him he was simply Dorian. No expectations he could disappoint and that could sometimes be a relief.

For a moment, his fingers drummed in an unsteady rhythm against the wood of the jug, hesitating, but he didn’t want to hide anymore. He had for far too long and here he finally had the chance to be, who he was and not an expectation he had to fill out.

He sighed, his honey coloured eyes turning sad, because out of whatever reason he didn’t want to see the same gaze in Blackwall’s eyes, he had always seen in his father’s.

“I prefer the presence of men.”

As soon as the words were out, Dorian drowned the rest of his ale, an unpleasant fire burning in his throat, but it consumed the uneasiness inside his body. Blackwall was silent for a moment, intense, blue eyes only looking at him, but Dorian wasn't able to read, what rested within them. It made his heart flutter, pounding loudly in his throat. He still felt as exposed and vulnerable as he had back in Tevinter.

“You mean romantically?”, Blackwall then finally asked, his gaze still unmoved. Dorian nodded, returning his gaze. Blackwall frowned a little, but said nothing. Instead he turned away to take a sip of his ale. That wasn't the reaction Dorian had expected and he didn't know, what to make out of it. An uneasy feeling nestled itself into his stomach.

“Shocked, dear Warden?”, he fluted, when Blackwall still hadn’t said a word, Dorian tried to ease the heaviness, which had settled over the Herald's Rest, in the only way he knew: humour.

“No.”, Blackwall simply said, the words resonating like a thunder through the tavern.

“Really?”, Dorian asked surprised, his facade crumbling.

“Why should I be?” Blackwall shrugged. “It doesn't change, who you are. You were attracted to men before you told me. Therefore, you're still the arrogant, but skilled mage I got to know.”

Dorian simply stared at Blackwall as his words slowly sunk in.

“Huh.” Blackwall turned his head back towards Dorian.

“I take it from your response that you don't get that reaction very often.”

“No.” Dorian shook his head and sighed. Suddenly, felt even more hurt from his father’s reaction now that he had experienced twice, how acceptance felt like.

“So that is a problem in Tevinter?”

“Well, not officially, but if your goal is to breed the perfect mage it’s quite problematic.” Dorian laughed loud, but humourlessly, the sound still resonating from the ceiling, when it had long died on his lips. Tevinter had many mistakes, Dorian was aware of it, but he still believed that there was hope for his country even though it didn’t want him. Well, not all of him. “It’s accepted as long it happens behind closed doors and we keep the decent façade.”

He lowered his eyes and felt how the neutral, unmoved expression on Blackwalls face disappeared and became softer from compassion.

“Therefore, love between men is only about fun in the Imperium.” A fog covered Dorian’s honey coloured eyes as he thought back to the time. “There is no place for relationships. I still tried to, though. With another Altus named Rilienus. He was such a lively person, always up for mischief and it was such a pleasant distraction from the tight chains of tradition and expectations. I enjoyed spending time with him and I…”

His voice trailed off, because the memory hurt too much.

“What happened?” Blackwall’s deep voice was warm, no trace left of the military tone it normally carried.

“I was promised to a young woman, Livia Herathinos. We disliked each other instantly.”, he continued. “We were higher in rank than Rilienus’ family and my father chased him away as soon as he found out about us. Nothing should endanger this arrangement.”

“I’m sorry, Dorian.”, Blackwall said and it was honest. Dorian laughed, coarse and dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh, that wasn't even the best part.” He picked up his ale, and sculled the entire tankard. The harsh liquid burned down his throat. The empty vessel thudded hollowly on the wooden counter, and Dorian signalled Cabot for more. “We Tevinter's have our reputation for blood magic for a reason, and my countrymen are not afraid to use it, no matter whom we use it upon.”

“Did they... did your family use it on you?”, Blackwall asked, concern dark in his voice.

“They tried.” Dorian gritted his teeth, his jaw becoming stiff and his hands gripped his jug so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Hot, burning anger poured itself like acid into his stomach and all the disappointment of the past year was suddenly back.

Blackwall gasped and his eyes widened in shock, his calmness tumbling from his body.

“Why would they do that?”

“What do you think? Because I was a disgrace and disappointment for the venerable name of House Pavus.” Dorian’s gaze was poisoned from disgust and his hand began to shake so strongly that the jug was drumming dully on the bar. “All that work, all that investment, all the selection for nothing. That was nothing my father could accept. So, he wanted to _change_ me. To make me acceptable.”

“Maker's breath...” Blackwall exhaled deeply and shook his head, disbelief mirroring in his eyes. Then, he fell silent, likely processing all the information he had gained about Dorian, maybe even revaluing the image he had of the mage. “And that's why you left.”

“Pretty much.” Dorian shrugged, trying not to show, how much it hurt him that his father had been that desperate.

Once again, Blackwall didn't speak immediately, considering his words carefully.

“I…I don't want to be insensitive.”

“Isn't that your speciality?”, Dorian teased and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly. Blackwall huffed, but it didn't sound disgruntled.

“I don't have much knowledge about blood magic. Could it really do such a thing?”

“Yes. Or it could've destroyed everything I am, turning me into a bubbling mess. I wasn't eager to find out, which was going to happen. I like who I am. I don't want to change.”

“I...understand that.” Sadly, Blackwall looked at him. “And it also explains some things.”

“Like?”, Dorian asked curiously.

“Like why you try to keep people distant with that charming smile of yours and your sarcasm.”

“Oh, you find me charming, do you, dear Warden? Was it broiling mysterious depths or just my dashing good looks and irresistible charisma?”

Blackwall laughed.

“Let’s say all of the above?”

Then the smile left his face. His hand seemed to tighten around his mug, and his gaze drifted off for a while.

“I feel like I understand you better now. Thank you for sharing this with me. For what it's worth, the man you decided to become is one I'm proud to be allied with.” Blackwall smiled softly at him, and raised his tankard. “Here's to escaping the bastards that haunt us.”

Dorian blinked and paused for a moment, sensing something in Blackwall in this moment. A flicker of guilt and sadness, he would say, somewhere hidden deep inside of him. Maybe, there was more to him than Dorian had seen. Just like Blackwall had only seen in Dorian, what he had wanted to see.

“Cheers.” Dorian chinked his once again refilled jug with Blackwall's.

“And despite that.”, Blackwall suddenly said ominously. “I think the Inquisitor is quite happy that you're just the way you are.”

“Of course, he is. I'm a delight to spend time with.”

“Depends on the taste.” Blackwall huffed. “And that wasn't what I meant.”

“What then?” Dorian blinked confused, the smugness suddenly gone.

“Astonishing. There's something I've noticed that the great Dorian hasn't?” Blackwall only smirked, taking a sip from his tankard to let him dangle.

“Blackwall.”, Dorian warned impatiently, but with an unnoticed plea. Blackwall smirked around the brim of his jug, his eyes glistening, but then he put it down and wiped the caught ale in his beard away with his glove. Dorian probably should feel annoyed, but he wasn't. He actually enjoyed it deep inside of him to know that nothing really had change. Even though he felt a bit closer to Blackwall, now.

Still, Blackwall kept him hanging on for one more moment, delighted by the situation, but when he noticed, how Dorian became a little nervous, it was immediately gone.

“I think the Inquisitor is quite fond of you.”

“Well, of course he is.”, Dorian said, throwing himself into his chest, but he stopped, when Blackwall only rolled his eyes.

“Are you just playing hard to get or are you really not noticing it?”

“Noticing what?” By the Maker, how did those two words end up with Blackwall laughing so hard into his mug that he almost choked on his ale? Drops of it spurted out from between the rim of the tankard and his beard and rained down onto the bartop. Thankfully they were far enough apart that Dorian's clothes were spared the abuse, but still.

“How is what I said at all funny?” Blackwall didn't answer, quiet laughter still spilling from his mouth and suddenly, the normally so serious warrior was all eased up and Dorian was surprised to see this new side of him, though he wasn't sure yet, if he liked the smugness. At least, it proved the warden wasn't just stick in the arse.

“I guess then, you have to find out yourself.” Blackwall smirked smugly.

“That's mean of you.” Dorian pouted sulkily. “Very mean. Where's the honourable warden?”

“You're not a damsel in distress, so the codex doesn’t apply, I'm afraid.”

“There's actually a rulebook?”

"Yes, and one of the rules is: don't spoil the surprise."

“Why do I not believe you.”, Dorian grumbled disgruntledly and Blackwall laughed again. It was a deep, full-bodied laugh. One, which filled the entire room.

“You’ll find out yourself. I’m sure about it.” Comradely, Blackwall slapped his shoulders. “I’m sure about it.”

Dorian sighed melodramatically, but left the topic for now. He knew Blackwall wouldn’t tell him more about it. He could be just as stubborn as he was, but the question what Blackwall had referred to didn’t quite leave him. Well, it was enough for a night, maybe even for the week. Dorian felt exhausted, but also relieved and content. Slowly, Skyhold had become his home.

Maybe, just maybe, he had finally found a place where he belonged. Who would have guessed he would find it in the uncultivated south?

**Author's Note:**

> So, I hope you enjoyed this little fanfic. =)
> 
> Please leave me a comment what you think about it. Kudos are also welcomed. ^-^
> 
> Thank you and I wish you a lovely Saturday.
> 
> Subaru-chan ^-^


End file.
